Twitterpated
by CierraLuv97
Summary: It's only a month until the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and all anyone can talk about is two things: Ginny Potter's first pregnancy and Luna Lovegood's mysterious break-up with her soon to be husband, Dean Thomas. It's up to Ron to convince Luna to go back to Dean, but sometimes things don't go exactly as we want them to. Sometimes, we get twitterpated. HGxRW, duh.
1. Melted Gelato

**TWITTERPATED:  
**

**_a two-shot by CierraLuv97_  
**

_Hi, everyone! I'm here with a new two-shot, written for WeasleySeeker's **The Bloody Hell!**_** Competition**. _Basically, you had to write a Ron one-shot featuring the line "Bloody hell!" in it. Ron is like my favorite person in the entire series (maybe the reason I write so much RonxHermione is because I secretly want to date him... ;D), so I was very enthusiastic. Anyway, here's part one - part two will be up soon. I've basically finished it, there's just some tweaking to do. _

**Part One:**

**Melted Gelato  
**

The only reason Ron ever found Luna that day was that he was exhausted from all of the searching, and he wanted an ice cream.

So, he clenched his fist and closed his eyes and Apparated to Gusto Gelato, which became the best place for ice cream related treats when Florean Fortescue disappeared during the Second Wizarding War. It was a bit sad, really, that the main reason why the snooty little shop was so popular was the death of someone else, but Ron tended to forget that when faced with a triple cocoa gelato sundae topped with toffee treacle bits.

Anyway.

Ron stepped out of nothingness and onto the pavement, and who does he see sitting outside the shop but the very person he'd been looking for all over wizarding London since three o'clock that day. Luna Lovegood herself was sitting at a table outside of the shop, a bowl of neglected gelato on the table.

She hadn't seen him yet (of course – she was watching the grass as if it was an intense Quidditch match instead of, well, _grass_), which may have been a good thing. Since Ron really didn't know what he was supposed to say. Hermione's instructions had been somewhat vague.

"If you see her, please, _please_ be tactful," she'd practically begged him before he'd left the three bedroom flat he shared with Hermione, Harry, and Ginny. "Try to convince her to go back to him – they probably had a really stupid fight, and she's just upset. Luna's very proud."

"I don't understand why I have to go," Ron had complained. "Me and Luna aren't as close as you and her are –"

"Now you're just making excuses," Hermione had said, quickly pulling out his blatant lie. "Luna and I, we're friends, but we don't understand each other, not really."

"And me and her do?" he'd asked incredulously.

"She thinks you're hilarious. Come on, Ron, no one has seen her since it happened, and Ginny's worried sick…"

"Ginny's worried about _everything_ nowadays. She bloody started crying yesterday when Harry bought whole milk instead of 2%." At nine months pregnant, and with the baby due any day, Ron's sister had been slightly… _off_. Ron had been at her side constantly, partially because he considered it his personal duty to make sure his best mate wasn't killed by his hormone crazed sister.

Although, if that happened, it could just be bad karma from Harry knocking her up in the first place, which disturbed Ron to no end.

"Seriously, though, I think she's lost it," Ron had added to Hermione. "If this is what women when they're like when they're pregnant… my poor dad. No wonder he plays with plugs."

"Ron!" At this point, Hermione had decided to play dirty. She reached up, running a hand through his red hair. "Please?" she'd whispered. "For me?"

Ron had swallowed heavily. _Breathe, Ron, it's just Hermione_. "But Ginny…" he had managed to mumble.

"She'll be fine," said Hermione soothingly, dismissively. "Please, Ron? Please?" Her hand slid down to his face, her thumb running along his cheekbone. Ron, in the back of his mind, noted that the words _just _and _Hermione _really didn't seem to agree with one another. _Damn her_.

Because that was the in the very back of his mind, since the rest of him was absorbed in her…

"Erm, okay," Ron had finally said. _Great one, Weasley. That's intelligent_. Not that it mattered anyway, because Hermione had then smiled sweetly, completely losing her sexy edge, pecked him on the cheek, and practically booted him out of the house, warning him not to come back until Luna was found and her mind changed.

_Not even a proper kiss_, thought Ron to himself as he stood awkwardly in front of Gusto Gelato, people staring and whispering to one another – _oh my goodness, it's Ron Weasley, best friend of Harry Potter and heroic lover of Hermione Granger! He is so incredible, hopefully one day I will be as brilliant as him, _or something along those lines, anyway. This didn't change the fact that it all still made him distinctly uncomfortable.

The only positive Ron could think of was that after this, Hermione was going to owe him. She _was _the only reason he was here at all, trying to figure out how best to attempt to convince Luna to go back to her fiancé…

"You've been standing there for quite some time, you know." Despite the voice's placidity, Ron still jumped a foot into the air. Luna was watching him, her head slightly cocked to one side.

"I expected you to ask to sit down a while ago," she went on, as if she'd never stopped. "You look quite tired."

"I am," said Ron. He sat down in the only other chair at the table. The two scoops of gelato, one scoop pale lavender and the other dark green, were not only distracting, but melting. "I don't suppose you're done with that?"

Luna glanced carelessly at the gelato. "You can have it, if you want," she answered with a sigh, pushing it towards him. Ron glanced up at her, caught off guard by the strange tone in her voice. It was almost… _sad_. Funny (well, not really), he couldn't really remember Luna ever sounding so sad, so depressed.

"You all right?" he asked as spooning a good sized portion of the lavender gelato into his mouth. It tasted like vanilla and white chocolate and herbal tea. Not his style, but after all, gelato is gelato. He quickly gulped down another spoonful.

"Oh, I'm fine," Luna assured him. "I'm just… thoughtful."

Ron was pretty sure she was sad, but he didn't push it. "About what?" he asked, digging his spoon into the green gelato. When he lifted it into his mouth, he nearly choked at the absurdly strong taste – like mint and sour apples and gummy candies. "What flavour _is_ this?"

"I believe it's called Weasley Wonders."

Ron choked again. "My family has a _gelato flavour_?"

"_You _have a gelato flavour," corrected Luna. "Because of the anniversary coming up, they came out with a flavour for a couple of people who fought in the battle – you, Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ginny, and me – although, I've only tried Weasley Wonders, and my flavour, and A Helping of Hermione."

Ron dropped this spoon, his ears burning. "That sounds …" But he couldn't even say it. He was definitely going to have to talk with Gusto Gelato and ask them exactly how drunk they'd been when they thought of _that _name.

"Yes, it's a bit weird, isn't it?" commented Luna, completely unperturbed.

"Completely," agreed Ron fervently. Despite the fact that next month was the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron was still bewildered by the incredible perseverance and determination of sixteen year old witches, and all for his name scribbled on a napkin. It was absolutely ridiculous (and Hermione thought so to, although Ron liked to point out that it was probably just raging jealousy making her agree with him, since she normally never did).

"The lavender gelato is me," went on Luna. "They called it Love Good Gelato. Get it? Because my last name is Lovegood?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, I get it," he told her. His grin faded as he realised that _here _was the perfect point to bring up the whole reason why he was really here. Great. How the hell was he, Ron Weasley, supposed to convince _Luna_, who always did whatever she wanted and believed what she wanted, to marry someone she apparently didn't want to? "Luna, speaking of last names…" He trailed off, unsure how to begin.

"Hermione sent you here, didn't she?" prompted Luna softly.

Ron glanced up at her. "How did you know?"

He was half-expecting her to mention Wattle Nungers or Snucker Devils, but all she said was, "Well, she _is _your fiancée. I've noticed that you tend to do what she says more often than not."

"Not all the time," protested Ron feebly. She was right, after all.

"I never said all the time," pointed out Luna. "I just said _most _of the time."

"Well… well, you would, too. Hermione's bloody terrifying." _And incredibly gorgeous_. "Don't tell her I said that, though."

Luna let out a light laugh, one that sounded like wind chimes. Then her expression abruptly became solemn again. It was disconcerting. "Hermione means well, and she's my friend," she said quietly. "But I can't go back to Dean."

"Luna," began Ron uncertainly. Deciding to just take the plunge, he said, "The wedding is in a week."

"_Was _in a week," corrected Luna, not at all rudely. "We can't get married if we're not engaged."

"He's a really good bloke, Luna," continued Ron as if he'd never been interrupted. "And he really loves you. What more could you want?"

Luna studied him, a tired expression on her usually child-like face. "Everything," she answered seriously.

Ron thought for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what the bloody hell she was saying. After a few moments though, he finally had to give in. "Could you clarify a bit?"

Luna hesitated for a moment, searching for words, before her face brightened. "Well, Ron, _you _love me."

"Not like that," said Ron quickly. "Like, not romantically."

"And _you're_ a good person," went on Luna.

"Well, yeah," said Ron awkwardly, feeling it would rather pompous to disagree. "What does that have to with anything?"

"Should _we _get married?" Her eyes were wide and earnest.

Ron nearly spit out his gelato. "Come again?" he said weakly after several moments of gaping at her. It had to be a joke, but Luna could very well be serious. He could never tell with her.

"Exactly my point," said Luna serenely. "We're both good people, but that doesn't mean we can get married. It doesn't work like that."

"Oh, thank Merlin – no offense or anything," he added hurriedly.

"I'm not insulted. But I don't understand how no offense changes anything. If I told Hermione she was bossy sometimes and then said no offense, she would still be bothered. Of course, that might be the Nargles," mused Luna to herself, drifting into her own world.

Ron cleared his throat. "Er, Luna?" She came back with a start, the faraway look disappearing.

"Sorry, I was thinking - oh, look, there's some men taking pictures of us. Over there in those bushes." She pointed not so discreetly at a cluster of rose bushes, the roses in full bloom and charmed to sing Italian opera. Huddled in the bushes, Ron could just make out a camera and somebody's hand.

He swore. "Damn Rita Skeeter," he grumbled. No doubt she had commissioned her photographer to follow him around. He could just see the headlines tomorrow: _Ron Weasley Caught On Romantic Outing With Loony Lovegood_. Or possibly worse, even. Now that the old cow was writing for _Witches' Weekly_, where gossip and made-up stories were encouraged, there might even be a made-up interview from him (or, God forbid, _Hermione_), or bewitched photographs that have him punching a photographer. And now that Luna and Dean had split…

Ron sighed, coming back to the matter at hand. "Look, was there – I dunno, did you two have a row? They're completely natural in relationships, Luna, take it from me."

Luna shook her head. "I can't go back to Dean," she repeated calmly. "He's a wonderful person, and I thought I loved him… but something has changed."

"Like what?" demanded Ron, sick of cryptic answers.

"My feelings," decided Luna after a moment. "They wouldn't let me be."

_Well, at least it's not cryptic_, Ron thought sarcastically. He was about to make a comment when he saw that Luna's eyes had that faraway look again, and she was focusing on something in the distance. Ron couldn't resist the urge to turn around and find out what she was staring at, even though it was probably something no one could see besides her. But, instead of nothing, he in fact did see the something that Luna saw. Or rather, the someone.

He was about their age, or perhaps a bit older. Nothing to look at, really; the man was short, wiry, with tanned skin and sandy hair down to his shoulders. He was wearing a fishing hat of some sort and intently studying a book (which instantly made Ron think of Hermione), and as he highlighted different passages in the book, he muttered to himself.

"Who _is _that?" asked Ron. It may have come out a bit louder than intended, for the man looked up. Ron quickly snapped his head back to Luna.

"He comes here every day from four to five," sighed Luna wistfully. "And he always wears that hat."

"No, I mean who is he? As in, what is his name?"

Luna blinked, and almost reluctantly, looked back at Ron. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I met him here yesterday – he was in front of me in line. Everyone here knows him, he asked for 'the regular'. And then he left. I didn't get to ask what the regular meant. What flavour of gelato do you think it is?" Her eyes slid back to Fishing Hat, her chin propped up by her hands.

"You – you cancelled the wedding for_ some guy_?" Ron spluttered, knowing without being told that it could only be the truth.

"Maybe Banana Bonanza," murmured Luna, ignoring him.

"That's ridiculous," stated Ron bluntly.

"Oh, you're right, he looks more like the Lollipop Licks type –"

"Luna!"

She looked up at him, and Ron suddenly felt young, child-like, immature. "I really _am _sorry, and I told Dean that. He tried to understand, but I don't think he can. I just… well, you know what I'm talking about, don't you, Ron?"

"I do?" asked Ron, bewildered.

"I think they must be the Twitterpaters again," concluded Luna. "They're very active during the spring time."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't be silly, Ron, of course you know." And she fixed him with such a penetrating look that Ron felt that not only did he not know, but Luna _knew_ what he didn't know, and she wasn't going to tell him until he figured it out.

But one thing he did know is that whoever that guy was, and whatever Luna meant about Twiddly Peter's or whatever the bloody hell they were called, the wedding was definitely off. And, unlike Hermione, who might have pushed the issue farther than healthy, Ron just let it be, staring into the gelato form of his soul.

**Anyone know where I got twitterpated from? ****That's right - Bambi. I love that movie so much, and I felt it applied/was something that Luna would so totally say. Anyway, what do you think? Good, bad, etc? Please don't review without leaving a review!**

**~ Cierra, **who has the COOOLEST math project ever! (And I don't even like math!)


	2. Spilt Milk

_Part two is up! I have to say that this is my favorite part. Just to yet y'all know: this story has been rated T for a reason. ;) All right, I'll leave that for you to decipher. Onto the conclusion!_

**Part Two:  
**

**Spilt Milk  
**

Eight hours later, Hermione and Ron finally arrived at their flat, exhausted but happy. "A baby boy…" Hermione murmured for the umpteenth time. She was very nearly dead on her feet, stumbling as she walked, but her eyes were sparkling, alive, overjoyed. "Ron, you're an uncle."

"You know, I think I finally caught on the twenty-seventh time you mentioned it," Ron told her, plopping into a chair at the kitchen table. "Merlin, I'm tired…"

"And we're the godparents," Hermione continued in that same amazed voice, dropping into a chair next to him.

"Who would've thought?" mumbled Ron with not as much sarcasm as he would've liked. He was just so damn tired. Hermione had Apparated to Gusto Gelato just half an hour after the whole Twiddler Peas came up, gasping for air. "The baby!" she'd shrieked, making everyone who was peacefully enjoying their gelato jump a foot in the air. "Hurry, Ron, hurry!" She'd yanked him out of his chair, and Luna as well, and Disapparated to St Mungo's.

Ron had quickly put two and two together – the baby was obviously coming – and from there, things just kept snowballing, faster and faster. First there was the agonizing wait in the dull, vapid waiting room for Ginny to hurry up and just _have _the thing already, where the minutes ticked by like hours. Of course, it could've been worse; Harry, who had been with Ginny while she'd been in labour, later told Ron that Ginny had made full use of her very colourful vocabulary.

Then, of course, there was the moment when the nurse called them in, and the entire Weasley family plus Hermione, Neville, and Luna crowded around Ginny and _oohed _and _aahed _over James Sirius Potter. Seven pounds, twelve ounces, and completely _ooh _and _aah _worthy. That is, until the kid began screaming. Ron had commented then that he reminds him of Ginny, which only got him half-hidden smiles from the men and dark looks from all the women.

Then there was a spontaneous celebration with all of the Weasleys (except, of course, Ginny, and Harry and Ron's mum, who were with her) that involved plenty of firewhiskey and good food at the Leaky Cauldron, and that family celebration turned into a public celebration as everyone asked about the first-born son of The Boy Who Lived. And _then _the press showed up, clamouring for details, and Hermione and Ron only managed to get away by sneaking out the back door – where they were mobbed by reporters who'd expected this, the bloody gits…

It was no wonder the two of them were ready to collapse.

"I'm going to get us some drinks," said Hermione suddenly, back in the present. She stood up, stretching, and opened the fridge.

"Don't you think we're already drunk enough?" hinted Ron, even though he'd only had two drinks, while Hermione had only one, not including a couple sips from his cup. However, the one time he had seen Drunk Hermione, he had been completely terrified into remembering that her alcohol tolerance is very low and that "if you ever stand by while I get drunk again, so help me Ron, I will hex your arse out the door".

Needless to say, Sober Hermione was a much safer option.

"I meant _non-alcoholic_ drinks," clarified Hermione, rooting through the fridge. "There really isn't much, though…"

"Are you serious?" said Ron incredulously a few moments later when she pulled out a bland white carton. "It's a quarter after one, and you want to sit around drinking _milk_?"

"Well, it's not like I can just fall asleep," said Hermione. "After everything tonight, I mean."

"Yeah, but milk?" he repeated as she pulled out two glasses from the cupboard.

"My mum used to always give me a glass of warm milk if I had trouble sleeping," said Hermione briskly as she poured a glass of milk. "Besides, that's all we have, besides butterbeer and water."

"I don't like water," said Ron, even though she already knew that.

"And, like you said, we're already drunk enough," finished Hermione. She handed him his glass of milk while she sat on the table.

"My milk isn't warm," he informed her.

"Now, you're just _trying _to be cute," said Hermione, carelessly flicking her wand twice at her glass of milk, then his, in order to heat it.

"Trying?"

"And failing. _Miserably_," she amended, quickly dispelling his pathetic attempt at a pout.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why I even proposed," said Ron nonchalantly. "With that attitude?"

"Oh, really?" said Hermione with eyes narrowed, but he knew her too well to not notice the slight change in breathing, the almost invisible panic in those pretty eyes. One hand flew to finger the diamond ring he'd only given her a few weeks ago. Apparently, this was a sore nerve. What did she think, that he was going to walk out on her again? And Ron had thought she was brilliant.

Even so, he still felt a twist in his stomach as he realised that the thought of him leaving was even a thought at all.

"Yeah," he went on, staring into his milk as if nothing else mattered. "But then, you know, I remember. Because I love you." At this last part, he looked away from the milk up at Hermione, whose cheeks were a delicious pink colour, her mouth hanging open slightly, the corners of her lips curled in a smile. "And you are never getting rid of me, so there," he added, partially just to see her get even more flustered, because Hermione, when she was flustered, was completely breath-taking, and partially to get his point across.

For a few moments, he watched as she opened and closed her mouth, unable to say anything. Finally, she cleared her throat, staring down at her milk. "Yeah, well… sorry," she said thickly. "I just…." She shook her head, smiling at him. Her eyes were suspiciously wet.

Another moment passed, only this was one was thick and hazy, one of those moments that wouldn't seem important to anyone else; a snapshot of this moment, of him watching as she sat on a table and drank milk, would never make anyone but the two of them feel the way they felt now.

"So," said Hermione eventually. "How'd it go with Luna?"

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well…"

She rolled her eyes, something the two of them seemed to do excessively. "Just _tell _me, Ron."

"It was weird – she's somehow convinced herself that she never really loved Dean, and now she's all moony over this one bloke who she's been stalking at the gelato place."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What's his name?"

"That's even weirder, she doesn't _know_. She said it was Twiddly Peters or something."

"Twiddly Peters?" repeated Hermione sceptically. "That's his name."

"No, it's like… you know, it's one of…"

"In the same vein as Nargles," finished Hermione grimly.

"They're apparently very active during the springtime," shrugged Ron. "Maybe _Twiddly Peters _is code for _allergies_."

"But – but the wedding!" insisted Hermione, a slightly frantic look in her eyes. "It's next week, and she and Dean were _lovely _together…"

"Yeah, but Luna's really into this guy," sighed Ron. "Whoever he is."

"She's been ridiculous," said Hermione hotly, stubbornly. Her face was determined and her jaw set and her eyes blazing. And suddenly Ron felt – well, not as if someone had punched him in the gut, because what he realised wasn't exactly a surprise. Rather, he felt as if the lights had been turned on, gently but powerfully. He _knew _what Twitterpaters were. He'd known all along. They were this feeling, they were sitting at the table at one in the morning, they were sneaking kisses and playful arguments and laughing and real arguments and making up.

"No, she's not," said Ron, smiling to himself. "She's not being ridiculous at all."

"What?" asked Hermione sharply. Clearly, she'd been counting on him being on her side.

"It's like – well, like love at first sight," he decided, for lack of a better term.

"Love at first sight?" repeated Hermione, unimpressed.

"Like all those Dindy movies we watched when we babysat Victoire and Dominique that one time. And that Shakeknife story, the one where they both die in the end."

"You're really bad at remembering names, aren't you?"

"Look, I think – I think Luna knows what she's doing," continued Ron. "If it was anyone else, I'd agree with you, but – Luna knows what she's doing. Besides, you owe me for making me search the entire country all day for one bloody person."

"That was Ginny's idea," admitted Hermione sheepishly. "You'd been bugging her, hovering over her. She thought the baby might be coming today and wanted to get out of the house."

He stared at her. "Are you bloody serious?"

"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" pointed out Hermione. "Well, almost." She sighed and ran her finger along the rim of her glass.

"Just trust her, all right?" asked Ron softly, choosing not to be angry at that moment. He reached around her, placing his glass on the table with a quiet thump. "Trust _me_. Luna will be fine. It's meant to be, I think."

Hermione really tried to stay upset, he could tell. Then, piece by piece, she smiled, putting her milk down. "When did you become such a romantic?" Then, much more quietly, much more powerfully, she whispered, "I love you, too," as she leaned in with her answer. She kissed him, soft and sweet, and it quickly became passionate and lovely as she got her hands fully tangled in his hair and he became hyper-aware of her and ignorant to everything else. Lucky Hermione had a much more logical, organized brain, or they wouldn't have heard the door open and they might've gone like that forever.

"Bloody –!" came the voice from the doorway. Hermione gasped, breaking the kiss and shoving Ron away, knocking over the milk in the process. Blinking, desperately trying to clear his mind, he glanced at the doorway. None other than George Weasley was standing there, looking torn between shock and amusement.

"Well, well," said his brother, strolling in through the doorway, smirking. "I thought we learned from last time to _lock the door_ when we decide to really go at it." George had walked in on Ron and Hermione making love nearly four years ago, but he was still holding it over their heads.

"George!" groaned Hermione. "You're absolutely vile, you know that, right?"

"You know what they say; 'Love me for who I am when you're not already having sexual intercourse with my little brother.'"

"George!" This time, it was both of them.

"Why are you even here?" demanded Ron, exasperated.

"Gin sent me to pick up the baby blanket she made for Jamsie," shrugged George, already trying out nicknames for James. Ron swore – no doubt this was Ginny's little revenge for Ron trying to be a good brother for those agonizingly long nine months. That was it (despite the fact that she had no way of knowing that he and Hermione would be snogging each other senseless). "Although, she's not the only one who's going to need a baby blanket if this unsafe –"

"Oh my God." Hermione hopped off the table and grabbed a pastel green wad of fabric from the arm of the sofa, which she proceeded to chuck at George. "Here, you've got it. Leave."

"Eager to get back to business?" asked George, waggling his eyebrows.

"_Leave_," growled Hermione, giving George a shove out the door. She locked it behind her, and sighed in relief, leaning against it.

"We really should've wiped his memory the first time," said Ron remorsefully.

"No use crying over spilt milk," said Hermione wisely, her lips twitching as both of them glanced at the glass of milk she'd spilled, the one neither of them cared enough to clean up. "Besides, he's already told everyone know, and probably everyone we don't."

"Bugger," he said, snapping his fingers. Hermione laughed. Ron was so twitterpated.

It was only a couple of seconds later that Ron hurried forward and she fell into his arms and there was more kissing, more lovely kissing. And then he was lifting her off her feet, not breaking the kiss, and carrying her away from the doorway and into complete bliss.

Yes, definitely twitterpated.

**Haha, what did you think? My favorite part was George. At first, I was hesitant to use him - I think lots of people are scared to write about George in any story that takes place after the Battle, because they think he won't be sad enough. But he's not going to constantly be moping around - there's going to be loads of good days as well, especially four years later. I also loved writing Ron, who is so in love with Hermione it makes me go "Aww!" (He also likes to really mess with her).**

**All right, whadya think? Yes, no, maybe so? Reviews are greatly appreciated!  
**

***NOTE* I got a review from someone that was very very sweet and flattering, asking me to write more RonxHermione. I smiled when I read it :) But if you seriously want to read more Ron and Hermione stuff and you like this, I _do _have loads of other one-shots on them. I've got a one-shot about them that stands on its on (but its not as good, it's pretty old), and then most of my other RonxHermione one-shots are in my one-shot collection Journey. I'm not trying to plug, I'm just answering a question, so don't get mad at me! Haha, but yeah, that's my answer. :D  
**

**~ Cierra**, who had two hours of tests today (glurg)**  
**


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